


Search and Seizure

by lil_1337



Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-06-12
Updated: 2006-06-12
Packaged: 2017-11-06 22:01:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/423743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lil_1337/pseuds/lil_1337
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Quatre won't quit speeding and Trowa decides to teach him a lesson.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Search and Seizure

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sharon1x2](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Sharon1x2).



> A Sam Browne is the type of belt a police officer wears that has his holster and compartments for handcuffs other accessories. Known by Batman fans as a utility belt.

Quatre swore softly as he rounded a bend on the forest road. What the hell was a state trooper doing all the way out here? Didn't the man have better things to do? He eased his foot off the accelerator and felt the jaguar's powerful engine slow, but too late. Flashing red and blue lights appeared in his rear view mirror a second before the low whine of a siren reached his ears. Damn it! That would make three tickets this month. Trowa was not going to be happy when he found out.

He quickly looked both ways, slid the sleek sports car across the solid yellow line, then off onto a small pullout on the shoulder. The trooper's motorcycle pulled in behind him and the officer separated himself from the gleaming piece of machinery, taking his time to make sure the bike was secure before stepping away from it. His movements were long limbed and graceful in a way that made Quatre's mouth water.

The trooper took his time walking up to Quatre's window, allowing his self-assurance to show in his swagger. This was a man who was very sure of himself and his authority. A light tap on the window and twirling motion of one of the trooper's long slender fingers indicated Quatre was to roll down the window. He quickly complied, flashing his most innocent charming smile at the man.

"Good morning, officer, is there something I can do for you?" Quatre looked into his own reflection in the trooper's mirrored sunglasses and for a moment he wondered what color eyes were hidden behind the smoked glass.

"License and registration please."

Quatre obediently pulled his license from his wallet and leaned over to get the registration from the glove compartment. He handed them to the trooper with another smile of pure innocence. He took them silently, looking over the registration before securing Quatre's license under the metal jaw at the top of his clipboard. A pen was retrieved from his pocket and the tip eased past slightly parted lips so the cap could be secured for removal.

Quatre swallowed hard, and shifted slightly in his seat, trying not to show how his body was responding to this man. The trooper's lean body was encased in a uniform that molded to him like a second skin. Uniform pants were tucked into knee-high boots that shone even in the dappled sunlight that filtered down through the trees. The heavy material of his uniform shirt was unbuttoned at the neck and ironed into a crisp V that allowed tiny sneak preview of the muscular chest beneath it.

"Please step out of the car, Mr. Winner."

Frowning in confusion, Quatre made no effort to move. "I'm sorry, officer, is there a problem?"

The trooper stiffened slightly and Quatre could feel the temperature drop a few degrees with the icy tone that now tainted his voice. The officer's hand rested lightly on the butt of his gun, an almost casual gesture that spoke volumes. "I will only say this one more time, please step out of the car."

"Okay." Quatre eased open the door and climbed slowly out of the expensive sports car, taking care where he put his feet on the mossy ground. He gently shut the door behind him and raised his hands slightly in a placating gesture. "I'm doing what you asked, Officer…" He leaned forward slightly to read the name on the polished bronze plate. "…Barton. Can you tell me what this is about?"

"Are you aware that this is the third ticket you have received for speeding in as many weeks?"

A hint of a blush spread across Quatre's cheeks and he cleared his throat to stall for time. He smiled his 'vote for my proposal' smile, the one that had won over staunch opponents to his side. "Well, yes, I was aware. However…"

Officer Barton raised his hand to indicate silence, effectively stopping Quatre's explanation. "Do you think you are above the law, Mr. Winner? That the rules that govern our society do not apply to you?"

Quatre shifted his stance, going into what he called battle mode, his weight balanced on the balls his feet to give him more traction and power. A frown indicative of annoyance replaced the forced smile. "I hardly think exceeding the speed limit by a few miles…"

"An average of 32.5 miles per hour."

He continued as if the officer had not spoken and only the slight narrowing of his eyes gave any hint that he was not at all pleased by the interruption. "…is hardly going to be responsible for the downfall of society as we know it."

"Maybe not in and of itself, but if you are above this law then what is to stop someone else from seeing your example and thinking they don't have to follow it either? Does that belief then lead them to discard laws in general?"

"You're making a rather large leap in logic from speeding to a more serious crime such as murder."

"Am I?" One eyebrow arched over the silver frame of the trooper's sunglasses. "What if you were to lose control and take yourself or someone else who might happen to be on the road with you?"

Quatre sighed; this was an old argument, one that he had had many times before with both friends and family. "I don't speed on busy streets or where other people might be injured if that were to happen. I am extremely cautious where traffic might be on the road."

There was a sound that was the bastard love child of a snort and sigh. "If that was truly the case you would not have incurred the speeding tickets." The trooper closed his ticket book with a snap before setting it on the hood of Quatre's car. He then snapped open one of the small cases that hung from his Sam Browne and pulled out a pair of handcuffs. "Hold out your hands, please." Despite the please tacked onto the end of the sentence there was no doubt that it was not a request, but an order in disguise."

Seeing the handcuffs in the officer's hand and the deadly serious look on his face, Quatre took a half step back until he was pressed against the warm metal of his car. The smile on his face took on a seductive hint to it. "Look, officer, we're both reasonable men. I'm sure we can come to a mutually beneficial agreement." He smoothed down his shirt and jeans, letting his fingers linger over his belt buckle and then lower.

The sunglasses slid a little on the officer's nose and for the first time Quatre got a look at the man's eyes. They were the dark green of the woods around them. He suspected they could burn with a white-hot passion, but right now they were so cold the whites almost seemed to be made of ice and snow. "Are you trying to bribe a peace officer to forgo his sworn duty?"

Quatre jerked his hand away from where it had been making lazy circles on his upper thigh. Carefully, he crossed his arms over his chest in the most non-sexual manner possible. "Of course not. That would immoral as well as unethical."

Handcuffs still held lightly, Officer Barton stepped closer, pressing his advantage. "Hold out your hands."

For a moment it seemed as if Quatre would argue again, but instead he grudgingly held his arms out. Glaring at the trooper as he snapped the metal bracelets onto Quatre's wrists. Holding the chain that connected them with one hand Officer Barton pulled his nightstick out of its retaining loop on his Sam Browne. He dipped in down and then under the chain on the cuffs so that it caught on the handle of the baton. Ignoring the look of trepidation on his prisoner's face. The trooper spun on his heel bringing Quatre with him. Stretching up he was able to wedge base of his nightstick into the partially open sunroof of Quatre's jaguar.

Quatre's breath hissed out when he realized the position he was in. His arms were secured over his head and his body bent over the gently curving frame of the car. He was a little more than half way down the length of the vehicle and could hear the metallic tick of his belt buckle hitting the window when he moved. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

A firm body pressed against his back and soft tenor tickled his ear. "Teaching you the lesson that all those speeding tickets don't seem to be able to do."

He jumped and yelped when the first swat landed, more from surprise than anything. While he could feel it, the heavy denim of his jeans protected him from anything more than a slight sting. When the second slap landed on his other cheek, laughter bubbled up from somewhere inside, and despite his best efforts to bite it back somehow it slipped out.

Quatre felt strong arms encircle his waist and again that firm body was pressed to his. Without thinking he pressed back, craving stimulation. There was a soft chuckle in his ear as nimble fingers made quick work of his belt and zipper. His jeans and boxers were worked down to just under the swell of his ass. He shivered in anticipation as lips brushed the back of his neck. "Promise you won't speed anymore."

The moan died on Quatre's lips. He swallowed hard, trying to get himself under control. The word that issued from his mouth was shakier than he was happy with. "No."

In retrospect he should have been expecting it, but when Officer Barton's hand connected with Quatre's ass he yelped, jumping as much as his restrained hands would allow. The second swat landed on his other cheek, but this time he was prepared. Biting his lip he remained stoically unmoved. His ass stung and he could feel the beginnings of erotic warmth spreading across them and down into his groin.

As suddenly as the spankings had started they stopped, the cool air of the late afternoon chilly on the flushed pink skin on Quatre's butt. He waited, wondering what the trooper would do next, trying not to think about how his cock was now hard and pressing himself against the slick glass of the window did nothing, but add to his frustration. Again the voice was in his ear, soft and heady with desire. "Are you going to promise?"

Quatre shook his head, unable to say the word he needed to. No, he was not ready to give in yet. He was a man with a strong will, and could out stubborn anyone he knew. A deep swallow of air, and a forced focus allowed him the strength he needed. "No."

A knee was between Quatre's, pushing his legs farther apart. There was the sting of a swat and something different, something more. Another swat and again the sensation. Biting back a moan, he realized that Officer Barton had slipped a finger inside and was stretching him. Anticipation rushed through him and he pushed back, needing the stimulation. The sensation of being stretched, then as the next swat landed a shock of pleasure coursed through his body as his prostrate was touched.

The next few minutes were a hazy of desire and need. Stretch, spank, touch, repeated over and over in what was not quite enough of a pattern for him to anticipate and move with it. Enough to drive him crazy with need, but not give him the release he craved.

Quatre let his head fall forward so it was resting against the frame of the car. His breath was coming in heavy gasps, and he was right on edge. His fingers clenched and unclenched as he tried to find something to ground himself. Again, the spankings stopped and this time the finger was also withdrawn leaving him shivering and frustrated right on the brink of orgasm. Precum had leaked from his cock and smeared the window making the surface even more slippery and affording him less friction.

Cool hands cupped his stinging, and now hot, ass cheeks, taking the edge off the heat. Teeth scraped his earlobe and again the request was whispered in Quatre's ear. "Do you promise?"

Shaking his head once slowly, Quatre tried to say no, but it came out more as a hoarse croak. "N…o."

It was not a surprise when the trooper entered him. One long hard thrust and he was fully seated. Quatre moaned loudly, trying to press back into the stimulation only to find strong slender fingers on his hips held him pinned in place. Officer Barton started a hard fast pace, shifting regularly so his strokes hit everywhere inside, but the one place Quatre desired. He was so close; it was about to drive him insane.

"Do you promise?" The words were panted this time.

"N…N…o." Quatre barely managed to stutter out the word, his ability to focus on anything but his need for release long since gone.

The pressure on his right hip eased and Quatre tried desperately to rub himself against the smooth glass of the now hopelessly smeared window. A light touch ghosted up and then down his cock. He arched into it, moaning in relief. The fingers circled the base of his cock and squeezed before positioning into a cockring that held him firmly in place.

Quatre moaned, unable to hold back his frustration anymore. "God, no. Please… I need…Please."

"Prom…ise." The word was broken into syllables, each one uttered with a panting breath.

The officer rolled his hips, shifting position again so that each stroke brushed against Quatre's sweet spot. Quatre choked, moaning. He couldn't take it anymore. The need was too great. "I promise!" Ripped from his lips as yet another wave of pleasure flowed through him, still building, but not enough to take him over the edge.

The fingers holding his cock captive, released, pumping him with long steady strokes. From somewhere far away Quatre heard himself yelling as the orgasm he had been needing so badly rolled over him in waves of tsunami proportions. He gasped eagerly for air to fill his tortured lungs, letting himself go limp and trusting that the hands that had pinned him in place would support him a little bit longer.

Gentle hands carefully pulled his boxers and jeans up, tucking him back inside before re-securing his zipper and belt. An arm wrapped around his waist and he felt himself lifted a little before his arms were lowered back down to rest in front of him. There was a click and he was shuffled around until he was eased down to sitting in the driver's seat of his car.

He turned to smile, somewhat bemused, at Trowa who was stowing the borrowed handcuffs back in their pouch. A cold water bottle was pressed into his hand and he drank it down, only pausing once for air. Quatre's hand brushed through Trowa's hair and Trowa captured it, kissing each fingertip before letting it go. Trowa rose from where he was crouched and leaned over to roll down the window before shutting the door.

"I'm going to go take this stuff back to Nick. I'll see you back at the house." He bent over and kissed Quatre lightly. "I love you, Quat. Drive safely and remember I know how long it takes to get home."


End file.
